Dirty Dishes
by Ninny-na
Summary: The only thing that may have been considered wrong about him were the dangerously coloured eyes in the middle of his face. /AU ; in a world where Cartman rules, Jews run, Kenny is a show, and Stan used to play in the sandbox. SLASH: STYLE ONESHOT


**There has been a serious decline in Style fiction...**

**DNO.**

**Warnings; Swearing, Style (meaning, m x m), don't like it, please leave. Though, honestly, cut out a couple things and it could be viewed as friendship. :D? And Eric Cartman ruling a country. The horrors. Un-beta'd (I need one. ;==;)**

**b e g i n**

The boy... He was beautiful. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he was beautiful. Stan knew those words were wrong, that they should have been directed towards some who was, at the very least, _female. _Someone like Wendy, or Bebe. But, as lovely as they were, they couldn't hold a candle to the red head standing in front on him.

He was tall, and rather gangly. With freckles plastering themselves against blushing cheeks (He must have been running, Stan mused.) and untamed curls red as blood falling from the black cap that was failing to contain them. A sharp nose protruded from the round face, falling above ruby lips opened in a pant. There would have been nothing remotely wrong with him, if it wasn't for the dangerous brown eyes placed smack dab in the middle of the stranger's face.

Now, it wasn't in young Stanley's nature to judge people on their looks if they were Jewish or not, but the small necklace that was hung precariously around the boy's neck that held the Star of David was kind of a dead give away.

"You're Jewish."

It was a fact, so Stan stated it like a fact. The red head however, recoiled like Stan had just slapped him with an outrageous lie.

"Wh-What? How dare you! Whatever gave you _that _idea?"

A blink, then a hand reached forward to pluck the silver necklace away from the boy's body. An amused smirk was on Stan's face when he replied, "This, perhaps? I don't believe any non-Jew would go running around with the Star of David on 'em."

The stranger gritted his teeth, fear staining his sinful eyes. He looked like a cat that was cornered, and after many incidents with his sister Shelly's cat, Stan knew to back off. After depositing the necklace into the boy's shirt, hidden from view, he stepped back and offered his hand.

"I'm Stan. Stan Marsh."

The boy made no movement to accept Stan's hand, leaving him feeling a bit like a fool.

"I'm Clyde Donavan."

"No, you're not."

A snapped, "How would you know?" was the response.

"It's your eyes, they look to the ground when you're lying. They did when you denied being Jewish, and they did just now. So what's your _real _name?"

"Why do you want to know?" The stranger was suspicious, as he should be. In a country ruled by Eric Cartman, anyone who was Jewish, or of the decent, had to worry constantly about their safety. He had made it his mission to seek out and destroy every last one of them. Stan couldn't believe that he use to play in the sandbox with that maniac.

"I want to know so I can stop calling you beautiful stranger in my head. It's so cliche, it hurts."

Finally, a smile reached the boys face. Though, it didn't quite reach his eyes, that were gorgeous even if they were considered evil. (It's amazing how much someone can fuck with the world, just by saying a few things about a certain group of people.)

"... Fine, it's Kyle. Kyle Broflovski."

"That's a mouthful."

Kyle snickered, and Stan grinned.

"Wanna come in?" he gestured offhandedly to the open door that hadn't shut due to the fact he ran into Mr. Kyle, quite literally, on his way out for a date. But that was trivial information. The fact is was with Wendy Testaburger was even more trivial, and something I was trying to forget so I could truthfully tell her that I _honestly forgot_ so she wouldn't eat me when I met her next. Kyle seemed shocked at my offer. What? Was he that much of a girl that he couldn't go into a man's house unescorted?

"But... I'm Jewish!"

"Yes, Kyle, let's yell that to the world. An excellent idea."

"Why would you let me into your house?"

"Uhhmmm... Because I want to talk to you more and because we are probably going to attract unwanted attention if we keep standing in the middle of the street like a pair of lunatics?"

Kyle was still cautious, peering around the darker haired bot to inspect the darkened hallway of my house. Stan remained nonchalant. "Look dude, either you come in and we be BFFs, or you go on your merry way of running away from the world. To help you choose, I have the newest episode of 'Kenny' stuck on stop in my DVD player, and a giant box of the sugariest crap Moms never let their kids eat that won't finish itself. You in?"

Brown eyes peeked up at him, "We won't have to eat it with milk, will we?"

A bright smile appeared.

"Of course not.

**- l - b -**

It was going against everything Kyle's Mother had taught me about trusting strangers. It was also going against what she said about said strangers, so the young boy supposed it was all right. His Mother always said that the people that weren't Jewish were cruel and only wanted to have our _kind _destroyed. Kyle believed her, after some rough altercations with some people that fit her bill.

Stan Marsh, however, was nothing like the people my Mother described. He was kind, I mean, who offers their house to a Jew nowadays? He was also very bright, and amusing. A tad bit average when it came to living style, but his appearance didn't show that. With raven black hair that toyed with the edges of his ears, and eyes so crystal blue is was almost sinful. A smile seemed to be his favourite expression, and the words, "Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here." almost sounded like his motto.

They both ended up on his couch in hysterics after watching the newest Kenny episode. A show about a guy whose words could rarely be understood die to the parka he wore. He also had the unhealthy habit of fucking random girls and dying nearly every episode. Regardless, the new friends found it absolutely hilarious. Almost rendered breathless after Stan said, "Oh my God! They killed Kenny!" to which Kyle responded, "You bastards!"

The show ended too quickly, and we were soon left with the news monotony repeating the numbers of Jews caught that day, the number was rapidly declining since almost everyone had been caught. Including Kyle's family. The thought of his Mother, Father, and younger brother being marooned in some filthy camp made his stomach hurt. Almost like he had just eaten some bananas.

"Our efforts will not be in vain!" came the voice of one Eric Cartman. The man whose very mentioning could make my blood boil with complete **hate. **He had destroyed his life, and for that, the red head would never forgive him. He had been caught once, and was given the proposal of freedom, if he sucked Eric's balls. (The nerve of him.) Young Kyle had agreed, but as soon as Cartman's pants were around his ankled, he was head butted and then the Jew ran. He had been running for several days now, the sugar crap that he ate earlier being his first morsel of food. For which, he was grateful.

"I still can't believe I use to play with that kid is grade school." Stan spoke suddenly, a tone of amazement in his voice. This nearly choked Kyle, who could only stare at him, a look of instinctual suspicion and betrayal in his eyes.

"You _knew _him?" Kyle's tone was accusatory. The blue eyed pretty in front of him winced.

"Sadly, yeah. Even as a kid he always went on about how he was going to 'cleanse' the world when he grew up. No one ever took him seriously, except Butters."

"But... But you knew him? Like, first name basis?"

"Yeah dude. Not exactly proud of that, trust me. I don't intend to prance around saying I knew Eric Cartman when his best friend was a stuffed frog named Clyde. Back when he was continuously voted Fattest Kid at school."

He was dumbstruck.

"Actually?"

"Actually." Stan laughed now, placing his bowl of sugar on the table, and reaching for the remote. The channel changed to a cooking show, that made both boys crinkle their noses, so he flipped it to a cartoon. Speed Racer.

"I haven't seen this show in forever."

"I knew a guy who used to be obsessed with it. Craig Tucker was his name, flipping people off was his game."

Kyle laughed, the noise startling the poor boy, but only caused Stan to turn and smile. Which, in turn, caused his stomach felt funny for an entirely different reason. Opening his mouth to speak, the brown eyed boy was rudely cut off by the sound of vicious knocking on the door. Two hearts stopped.

Both stood with a look of panic etched into their faces. One began to rapidly look around, desperate for a place to hide. While the other, Stan, ran his hand through his already mussed up hair, then called out, "Who is it?"

"It's Wendy, Stan! Now open this damn door!" Was the screeched reply.

While he visibly calmed, Kyle was still trying to find a hole to hide in. Mr. Marsh pointed into the room joining the one they occupied. "Go in there, you should find stairs on your right. Go up and hide in any room. Go!" He whispered urgently, pushing the other away. A nod was all that was given in response. As the run away scampered up the stairway he could hear Stan while he opened the door and said, "Wendy! What brings you here?"

Minutes seemed like hours.

The boy had locked myself into a bedroom, Stan's, by the looks of it. A bed stood in one corner, it's blankets clumped in an unceremonious heap. A modest dresser, and bed side tables also dotted the room. With scare pictures on them. One was of Stan, dolled out in a football uniform. Another held him and what was assumed to be his family. He stared up at the red head, his expression was one that clearly said, 'Get me away from these people!'. A chuckle, then he moved on. The rest were of miscellaneous things. A dog, a cat, another of his family. The intruding boy was just about to put the last one back down when Stan came tearing through the door, a flurry of apologies.

"Hey, sorry dude, just a girl I said I'd meet and yeaah." A blink. "What are you doing?"

Kyle had the modesty to blush.

"Uhmm. Sorry, I was just, uh, looking at your pictures."

"Why?"

"I.. I'm sorry!"

"No, dude, seriously. Why? They're boring as fuck, my life hasn't exactly been interesting."

A dark look covered the Jew's face, placing the picture down, he landed on Stan's bed with a 'thump!'. "Believe me, I'd give anything for a boring life."

He was wringing his fingers when the dark haired boy flopped next to him. His arms spread backwards, his hip dangerously close to the others. "Sorry about that. Should have realized what I was saying, and to whom." He threw me an apologetic grin, that was returned voluntarily.

"It's all right." Came the soft reply, gaze going back the to fidgeting fingers.

Seconds passed, the silence growing as it did. Kyle finally piped up.

"You're bed is really messy."

"I know a way we can make it even worse."

The red head spun in his seat, staring at the other in complete shock and maybe a teensy bit of mortification. With an easy going smile on his lips, Stan leaned forward. His breath ghosting over the smaller one's face as he spoke, "Come on now Kyle. We both know you can't resist me."

There was going to be a scathing retort, but that was rudely shushed.

"There's no use in lying. I can see right through you."

A small growl was heard, then a 'Shove it' and young Stanley was promptly attacked.

Morals be damned.

**- l - b -**

Stanley woke up with a start, a dream tearing him from his slumber. The morning light was peeking in, slowly making itself known to the occupants of every house is South Park. Groggy, he threw his arm sideways, hoping to sneak in a cuddle with the beautiful Jew sharing the bed. The arm was met with empty air. Stan jolted up in bed, far more awake then he was just moments previously.

"Kyle?" he called out. A panic edging closer. "Kyle?"

"What dude?" Came the reply as the red head made his appearance, walking in from the hall. A piece of floss in hand. A sigh of relief escaped the blue eyed boy.

"Jesus man, don't _do _that. Thought you disappeared on me."

He just laughed.

**- l - b -**

"I really hate Eric Cartman."

"We all do."

Stan was given a hard look.

"But no one has more reason then me."

Kyle was given a kiss.

"Of course not."

**- l - b -**

"I have to leave."

"Today?"

"Soon."

"Okay."

Kyle had been saying that for near two weeks now.

**- l - b -**

"I _really _hate Eric Cartman."

"I know."

**- l - b -**

Stan never thought the day would ever come to pass, the day his own little Jew (Who'd murder him if he ever said that out loud) would have to leave. Normally the two didn't mind the knocking on the door. They had devised a plan where Kyle would simply slip away into the attic and wait out the guest. Basic, and it worked. But not this time. This time, it was Eric Cartman who stood on the opposite side of the thin wooden door.

"Oi! Stan! Let me in!"

"Fuck." Stan whispered, his blue eyed staring desperately into his lover's warmer brown ones. "What do we do?"

Kyle just smiled. It was one of pain, but it was a smile. Stan had still yet to see one reach his eyes.

"I have to leave."

"No, you can stay! They attic! He won't check, I promise!"

The darker haired of the two was now begging, gripping the thinner arms of one Mr. Broflovski who grabbed his hands and removed them. The look in his eyes mirroring the others. "No Stan, it's time. I'm Jewish, I have to stay on the move. I'm sorry."

A chaste kiss, a whispered, "I'll miss you." and he was gone. Like he was never really there.

"Stan! Open the God damn _door _or I'll break it in!"

A deep breath. A fake smile. That was all he needed to fool Eric.

"Cartman! What brings your fat ass to this part of town?"

Maybe one day he'd get Kyle back and maybe one day, he'd see a smile that reached his eyes. Right now though, he was left only with memories, a torn shirt, and the dishes in the sink.

**e n d**

**I'm terrible at endings. I really, really am. Anyways~**

**If you hadn't noticed, this is placed in a world where Eric rules, Jews are on the run, Kenny is a show, and Stan used to play in a sandbox. **

**This started from the line 'He had dangerous brown eyes'. I fucking kid you not. Plot bunnies like to run rampant with me. This really wasn't suppose to be that long..**

**Oh fuck ; I just discovered I switched 1st person, 3rd person shit half way through this damn story. ... Editing, away~~ Bloody fucking hell. That's really all I can say. **

**My head hurts. This took like, 5 fucking hours.**

**My head reaaally hurts.**

**Con. Crit is welcomed, flames with be used for s'mores, and please, review if you favourite.**

**Danke. (:**


End file.
